


you left the door open

by Zofiecfield



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Humor, Jello jokes, pandemic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26554909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zofiecfield/pseuds/Zofiecfield
Summary: Waverly meets an intriguing new neighbor while quarantining during a Purple Slime Virus outbreak.  Purgatory’s newest deputy, Nicole Haught, will make quarantine much more interesting...Final chapter is up now, with chickpeas, interruptions, and public radio!
Relationships: Waverly Earp & Nicole Haught, Waverly Earp & Wynonna Earp, Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 30
Kudos: 228





	1. Arrival

The Purple Slime Virus arrived in Purgatory on October 1. Hesitating not at all, it found its way to Shorty's that same day, in the form of the middle-aged man who chugged his beer, burped once, and then sneezed hard, spraying the counter with thick purple goop. As it dribbled down his chin, he slithered to the floor and began to shiver, humming loudly at a high pitch through purple lips.

Waverly Earp froze, wet rag still mid swipe along the bar. Dazed, she looked down and, in slow motion, dragged the cloth along her bare midriff, smearing the purple droplets across her skin. "Oh, god," she muttered, as the screaming started around her.

She looked up, still standing outside herself, and saw the chaos as it erupted. Stools tipped and tables turned as patrons ran for the door. Their thundering and the sharp sound of smashing glass brought Waverly to her senses. 

The tidal wave of bodies hit a violent halt at the front door, held at bay by the young woman with flaming red hair, who had, until this moment, been quietly drinking coffee by the window. No longer unassuming, she now stood tall, badge drawn. In the other hand, she held her radio, speaking calmly for both the benefit of the dispatcher and of the terrified crowd in front of her. 

"This is Officer Haught, reporting a suspected active case of PSV at Shorty's Bar." 

There was a burst of static, then the dispatcher's grainy voice. "Remain in place and secure the scene. The Sheriff is on his way."

"10-4." She squared her shoulders and stared down the crowd. "The Sheriff is on his way. We all need to sit tight for now."

This was not kindly or calmly received. As the shouts of panic washed over her and the crowd began to jostle closer, she held her ground, face neutral, one hand resting lightly on her holstered gun. 

Waverly reached for the remote under the bar, muting the blaring music. Everyone paused, for a sliver of a moment. Just enough time to climb onto the bar. Though her family was not well liked here, she had worked hard to buck that tradition. Time to cash in all those smiles and waves.

"Jim, Daryl, cover your noses and mouths, and move him to the pool table," she commanded, gesturing down at the body sprawled at the base of the bar, now nearly entirely Crayola purple and reaching a pitch only teens and dogs can hear. "We've all been exposed now, so there is no point in panic. Everyone sit down and have another drink. The next round is on the house."

It shouldn't have worked, her sole authority being control of a tap and a cute smile, but it did. The crowd, stunned from their panic and reality crashing down over them, began to filter towards her, as the body was carried away. 

As she climbed down from her perch, Waverly saw the officer by the door take a deep breath and deflate a little, clearly shaken and worn of her poise. _When this is over, I should introduce myself_ , she thought absentmindedly, momentarily distracted by the small smile of gratitude that slipped across the woman's face as their eyes met. 

Five minutes later, the Sheriff arrived to cordon off the building and bar entry to any unsuspecting town folk. Fourty minutes later, the sirens began to arrive. The response team from the city, in their newly minted hazmat suits, flooded the bar. They collected the body, now quivering, disturbingly like grape jello. Everyone else was funneled through pop-up decontamination showers, and then given packets with rules for the subsequent 30-day quarantine. Everyone at the bar would be transported to their homes, instructed to stay in the house and wait to see if the telltale purple congestion set in.

This was the first case in the region. The man had traveled to Purgatory from his home hours away, swinging through for a quick drink to settle his nerves before visiting his mother. With no cure found, once Purple Slime was contracted, there was no choice but to wait out the 6-month jello stage before re-solidifying into human shape, albeit permanently slightly higher-pitched. It had spread throughout many cities and small towns over the past year, rendering them literal quivering masses. Purgatory had been lucky until now, and stubbornly convinced of their own resilience. But the virus was uninterested in their foolhardy confidence. It had arrived anyway, and if not addressed decisively and aggressively, it would be here to stay.

The town immediately entered a strict shutdown, and the unlucky folks who had been in Shorty's began their long and lonely wait.


	2. Neighbors

A palm slammed into the door, followed by thundering footsteps down the stairs. Waverly enjoyed Wynonna’s version of ding dong ditch. She opened the door.

At her feet was a cardboard box, overflowing with food. This was the second in two days, packed and sent by her Aunt Gus, delivered (with the addition of copious alcohol and snarky boxes of grape jello with her face glued on the front) by Wynonna. Waverly had enough food to survive several months at this point. If Gus kept sending supplies at this rate, she’d have to turn her kitchen pantry into a general store. She hollered her thanks into the stairwell. 

“If you turn into jello, Baby Girl, I will kill you! Or eat you with a spoon!” Wynonna shouted up to her.

"Love you too, Wynonna!” Waverly smiled to herself and started to haul the box into the apartment.

Wynonna's head popped back up in the stairwell, grinning. "I mean, Gus makes a mean jello mold, so..."

Waverly rolled her eyes and waved her sister away, laughing. "Goodbye, Wynonna!" She could hear Wynonna cackling at her own joke as she left the building.

As she dragged the box into the house, the door across the landing cracked open. Waverly glanced up, already apologizing for Wynonna’s lack of volume control.

“Sorry about that. She’s never met a sentence she couldn’t yell and her sense of humor is...” She trailed off, as she found herself face to face with the young officer from Shorty’s. "You!”

The woman smiled, opening the door further and leaning against the frame. “And you.”

Waverly straightened up and found herself grinning. “You were incredible yesterday! Not many people could face down a mob like that.”

“I had help,” her neighbor replied with a wink. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Nicole, Nicole Haught.” 

Waverly noticed her mouth had drifted open, and quickly snapped it shut, though the corners refused to leave their smile. “Waverly Earp.” 

They stood there, holding the gaze between them for a long moment. Waverly broke first, reluctantly. 

“You’re new here. I know everyone around town, and there’s been some talk about you.” She propped her hands on her hips and jutted her belly out, imitating the gruff men who frequented the bar. “ _A girl deputy? From the city? What the hell was Nedley thinking?_ ” 

Nicole let out a chuckle. “Well, that explains all the whispers and hairy eyeballs." She nodded towards the stairwell, "And Earp explains the sister. She and I met a couple days ago, I think, in the back of my squad car.”

Waverly sighed in fond exasperation. "Yes, that was definitely her. Won’t be the last time either, I’d bet. She’s a good egg, really, but restless here. Really, really restless, and it gets her into trouble."

“Speaking of restless, cabin fever is setting in hard already." Nicole ran a hand through her hair. "I've got to make a plan or I'm going to lose my mind this month."

“Thirty days of quarantine and the threat of devolving into purple goo isn’t the warmest welcome to Purgatory...”

Nicole smiled a little and shrugged, holding Waverly’s eyes. She winked again. “At least the company is good.” 

Waverly blushed fiercely, suddenly _very_ aware of her body, of Nicole’s body, of the landing separating them. Of the heat rushing to her cheeks. 

Quite off-kilter and unsure why, Waverly started to stammer something, but stopped as Nicole’s smile broadened into a dimpled grin. “The cat, I mean.” She nodded her head towards the orange fluff, perched on the table behind her. “Good company.” 

Waverly failed to respond, brain sputtering, face on fire now. Still grinning, Nicole started to close the door. “Nice to meet you, Waverly Earp. See you around.”

Waverly managed a weak wave as the door clicked shut. She stood in the doorway for a moment, cardboard box forgotten at her feet. Dazed and a little overheated. _Nicole Haught._

Suddenly, thirty days of quarantine didn't sound so bad.


	3. New Routine

On the fourth morning of quarantine, Waverly hauled herself to the kitchen counter to chop the mounds of vegetables Gus had sent. She'd spent her first few days wandering aimlessly around her house, snacking when the mood struck, eating too little and sleeping too much. Individual moments were incredibly long and passed incredibly quickly, days stretching into blurs and disappearing in a blink. The space and time had felt briefly indulgent and freeing, but were rapidly gaining weight, dragging her down. 

This morning was different, though. The sun was shining for the first time in days, streaming through her windows, and she had woken with resolve. She had twenty-six more days in these rooms, devoid of all of her regular routines and of all of life's spontaneity. She was determined to create new structure and manufacture her own novelty, stay afloat until the world resumed.

As she chopped, her brain created detailed lists of projects to be tackled, chores to be done, and demands to place on herself to foster some accountability, something to solidify the days. But, with every new item added to her list, another item slipped off. She could feel them falling away, weaker than the temptation to put down the knife, eat a handful of raisins, and go back to bed. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by plodding footsteps up the old staircase and a sharp knock on the door across the landing. Footsteps receded, back towards the stairs in a labored, asymmetric hustle. 

Curious and craving action, Waverly tiptoed to the door and peeked through the peephole. 

Nicole's door creaked as it swung open. "Sheriff!" 

Sheriff Nedley stopped in his tracks, already halfway down the stairwell. He turned, awkward from head to toe. "Deputy. I, erm, brought some cat food. For the cat. And some milk and bread. For you. Just, uh, just left 'em there. Didn't want to interrupt."

"Nothing to interrupt," Nicole said, adjusting her stance to match his, awkward on awkward. "Quarantine is boring as hell. Thanks for the food. I really appreciate it."

"Figured you had only just arrived before this happened. Might not have much in the cupboard. Small town, we take care of our own." As he said this, he nodded curtly and took a step backwards, easing himself down the stairs and away from this conversation.

"Thank you. I'm disappointed to be stuck here and unable to help." She picked up the bag and waved a little, giving him the permission to leave that he was clearly itching for.

"There'll be plenty to do still. Well, holler if you need anything." He turned and hustled down the stairs, having reached the limit of his social graces.

"Bye, and thanks again," Nicole called into the stairwell. Waverly caught the little shake of the head and the fond smile that twitched across Nicole's lips as the door clicked shut.

Sheriff Nedley had been a kind, stilted man as long as Waverly had known him. He was good in a town where many were not. As she wandered back to the kitchen, Waverly felt a little burst of warmth towards him for his thoughtful, haphazard show of care for his new deputy. Bread and milk. 

Waverly smiled and hummed a little to herself as she she regarded her vegetable heaps, gears turning enthusiastically. She had found another project for her list, more motivating than the lackluster others. Hostess impulse in overdrive, she dove into the meal preparation with new purpose.

Hours later, arms laden with two steaming bowls of vegetables and pasta, Waverly thumped hard on the shared wall between the two apartments. She opened her door and found Nicole already standing in the opposite doorway, bemused.

"I made a vat of pasta. Will you help me eat it, please?"

With a wry smile, Nicole shrugged. "I don't know... I had really been looking forward to dry toast... and maybe a cold glass of milk."

Waverly laughed and turned pink, aware and a little embarrassed that Nicole had spotted her eavesdropping earlier. She set one of the bowls in the middle of the landing, and then settled in her doorway, criss-crossed with the warm dish nestled in her lap. She smiled up at Nicole expectantly, and waited. 

No match for that smile, Nicole relented immediately, peeling herself off of the doorframe to retrieve the offered bowl. As she folded herself to the floor, she met Waverly's eyes and held them, her face betraying the true strain of these lonely, apprehensive days. "In all seriousness, Waverly, thank you." 

Waverly held a breathe in her chest for a moment longer than intended, eyes fixed on Nicole's. The vulnerability she'd found there, the admission of need, so uncommon to find, so rarely freely given. She was caught off-guard. Nerves sparked sharply in her gut and her ribs tightened down in response. 

They ate in companionable silence, stealing glances and small smiles. 

That was their first meal, first of many.

From that point forward, they shared all their meals like this. They pooled their resources (mostly courtesy of Aunt Gus), traded cooking duties, took solace and stability from the routine. It grounded them as the days wore on. Over shared meals they opened themselves and fought the blur of days with the thrill and novelty of someone new. 

At a distance, they drew closer.


	4. In which she sneezes

They sat propped against their door frames, in piles of pillows and blankets. The night had long since gone from late to very late to early morning. The movie they watched had finished, rolled all the credits, and played the disc menu music on a loop until the laptop battery had given out. 

Calamity Jane had taken advantage of their distraction, slipping into Waverly's apartment and commandeering her bed, finding an excellent nap spot on her pillow. Waverly had run a hand through the cat's fur as it crept across her thighs, but barely took notice.

There seemed to be an endless supply of conversation, one thread drifting into the next effortlessly. This was the way with them. 

As sunrise started to lift the darkness through the small window on the landing, Waverly yawned, long and wide, unable to stop herself. Nicole laughed and caught the yawn too.

"It's a bit past my bedtime," Nicole joked, reluctantly beginning to gather the blankets around her.

"Bedtime is for," Waverly failed to stiffle another yawn, "babies." Nicole tossed a pillow at her and Waverly chuckled. She stood up and stretched, hips popping from hours sitting on the floor.

Standing in their respective doorways, they paused for one last smile, comfortable warmth simmering between them. 

For the hundredth time in the last few days, Waverly’s feet itched to close the distance between them. She wanted to hug Nicole tightly and feel the warmth and pressure of another human, the comfort and steadiness that brings. _Okay_ , and yes, when she was being honest with herself, her hands wanted desperately to cup that chin and trace those dimples too. The absence of physical contact while isolating was difficult and tiring on its own. The presence of Nicole Haught made that absence practically torture.

Alas. Her knees might have felt like jello every time Nicole smiled, but the very real risk of spreading the virus and turning either of them literally gelatinous was a steep price to pay for a crush. And devolving into purple goo for six months would really put a hitch in whatever _this_ was becoming.

Doors shut. Time for bed.

Waverly sunk onto the mattress, eyes closed and heart humming, savoring the night, well-spent. Her heart was practically purring.

No, wait, not just her heart. She opened one eye and found a pair of bright green eyes inches from her own. Calamity Jane was perched on her pillow, content and vibrating.

"Hi, sneaky butt. You need to go home now." 

She picked the cat up and opened the door. At the exact same moment, Nicole's door also swung open. "Have you seen -" Nicole stopped mid-sentence as she spotted the large cat tucked in Waverly's arms. "-a slinky orange fluff monster?"

Waverly set the cat down and gave her a little shove to send her in the right direction. 

Nicole cooed to the cat in faux chastisement, crouching to skim her fingers through the fluffy tail as it passed her. "What have I told you about sneaking into strange women’s homes without me, hmmm? Take me with you next time!" She glanced up at Waverly, smile over a shared joke tugging sweetly at her lips, pulling an unintentional sigh from Waverly.

Nicole straightened up and regarded Waverly fully. "Goodnight, again, Waves. Tonight was-"

"Wonderful," Waverly finished the sentence without thinking.

Waverly woke, mouth gluey and head throbbing. She dragged herself to the kitchen for a glass of water, trying to clear the dry cough at the back of her throat. At the kitchen sink, she sneezed, hard, and felt the rush of congestion. She sneezed again and began rummaging in the towel drawer for a handkerchief. She blew violently, clearing her nose and unfogging her brain a bit. Then she froze. 

Dread swept over her as her brain kicked into gear. Slowly she opened her eyes and examined the cloth in her hand. No, no purple to be seen. Not yet, anyway.

Her heart sunk and she felt a shiver of panic run through her. _Fuck._

She heard Nicole's door open across the hall. Squaring off her shoulders and hastily tying up her hair, she opened hers too. Nicole was waiting across the landing, pajama clad, coffee mug in hand. "Morning," she husked, grinning. Her smile faltered as she took Waverly in, furrow of worry appearing on her brow. "Hey, are you okay? You look -"

"I'm feeling a bit run down," Waverly cut her off, trying to keep her voice even. "I am going to sleep for a little while longer, then I'll be fine." She willed herself to believe the last part as she said it.

"Waverly..." Nicole took a step forward, forgetting herself for a moment. 

Waverly took a quick step back, a panicked mirror. "I'm fine. Promise."

Nicole nodded, accepting that this was not hers to fight, but clearly unconvinced. A small bit at the back of Waverly's head tucked this away for later pondering. _It's rare to find someone who see through you and your defenses, straight to the heart._

"Take that," Nicole said, nodding to Waverly's feet, where a steaming cup of tea was already waiting, tucked safely next to the door frame.

Wavely picked it up and cradled it gingerly against her chest, a small smile fighting through the gloom.

"And take care," Nicole finished. "I'll see you tonight."

Waverly closed the door, panic and misery washing over her again. There was, it seemed, even more to lose now than there had been a few days ago. 

She curled up on the couch, miserable, and was asleep within moments.

Hours later, she woke to loud knocking on her front door. She dragged herself off the couch and opened the door, disoriented. 

Nicole was there, arm raised to knock again. Startled, she took a few steps back. "Thank god, Waverly! It's been twelve hours. You didn’t answer when I knocked. And for some INSANE reason, we haven’t exchanged phone numbers yet!?! I made Nedley call your sister!”

Waverly quirked her head, brain still fuzzy with sleep. She scrubbed her hands over her face and searched her head for something to orient her. A movie. Nicole, wrapped in a blanket, laughing. The cat. _Shit._ The sneeze. 

It rushed back to her and she jumped to put more distance between her and Nicole. Gasping, she sputtered, "Nicole! I am-" 

She paused, reassessing. She felt fine. Absolutely fine. She felt the fear drain out of her, leaving her empty and exhausted. She sagged against the door. "Fine. I am fine."

Relief flooded Nicole's face. "That is really, really good news. Waverly, I..." she trailed off, searching and failing to find the right words. "Just, really good news. Can I make us some toast?"

"Please. I'm starving." Waverly settled to the floor and watched through the open door as Nicole moved around the kitchen. She smiled and closed her eyes for a second, savoring the relief and the warmth of having someone to share it. 

A moment later, her eyes snapped open. She looked down at her lap, now occupied. "Hey, little one. How did you sleep?" The cat curled up and immediately began purring.

"She likes you." Nicole slid a plate of toast across the floor towards Waverly. Calamity Jane sniffed and, disinterested, returned to her snuggle. "She isn't usually this friendly.”

Waverly stroked the orange fur with one hand and began munching toast with the other. "I've never spent much time with cats. I had assumed standoffishness, but here we are!" She scratched between the cat's ears and under her chin. 

And then she sneezed. Not once, but several times, panic rising with each one as they came in rapid succession. The cat fled, tearing back across the landing to safety, and Waverly scrambled to her feet. 

"Waverly? Waverly? Waves!" Nicole raised her voice, shout piercing the panic pounding in Waverly's ears. Waverly froze and turned to her with eyes wide and blind with fear.

"Waves," Nicole stood, moving very slowly, so as not to startle. "I think you might be allergic to cats."

"What?" Waverly was having trouble stringing thoughts together, scattered and fractured as they were.

In a steady voice, speaking slowly, Nicole continued. "You sneeze only when you're around the cat, and it clears up when she's not around. Waves, you don't have the virus. I think you're allergic to cats."

Waverly sunk back to the floor, heart rate sinking with her. She reviewed the past 24 hours in her head and pieces started to shift into place. 

She looked up at Nicole, who was still braced in the opposite doorway, still treading gently. Waverly was so tired now that the adrenaline had torn through her system and left ruins in its wake. Too tired. A sharp chuckle burst out of her, unexpected, and then another and another, until she was laughing uncontrollably, until the tears came. 

Nicole lowered to the floor quietly, waiting. 

Waverly slowly caught her breath, mopping her streaming eyes with the collar of her shirt. “Fuck,” she murmured, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the wall. 

“Waves,” Nicole whispered, a question or a reassurance. Waverly met her eyes, slowly, unsure of what she’d find.

Relief and calm and shared understanding of the terrible gravity of fear. And something else, too, in those eyes. Something that looked a lot like love, with the shimmer of grief that it brings.

Waverly’s breath caught in her chest. 

Later, much later, when she had said goodnight and changed her sheets and crawled into bed, Waverly glanced at her phone.

6 missed calls and 12 text messages from Wynonna.

>   
>  Wynonna: Your hot cop friend says you’re sick. Pick up the phone.  
>  9:00am
> 
> Wynonna: Baby girl, don’t make me come over there.  
>  1:02pm
> 
> Wynonna: Hot cop is going to go bang on your door if you don’t answer soon.  
>  1:57pm
> 
> Wynonna: Bet you can’t wait for quarantine to end so she can bang something else, huh?  
>  2:06pm
> 
> Wynonna: Better hope she likes slurping jello... Better hope she likes grape... Oh no! What if she’s into lime!!?! :P  
>  2:08pm
> 
> Wynonna: You’re not as fun to tease when you’re unresponsive.  
>  3:17pm
> 
> Wynonna: Hot cop seems like a good egg. You should snag her once this is over, kid. You deserve somebody good.  
>  6:02pm
> 
> Wynonna: I hate that I can’t protect you from this. I like when I can just punch a guy and fix your problems.  
>  7:23
> 
> Wynonna: Nevermind. Hot cop is annoying. She “doesn’t appreciate” my jello jokes.  
>  8:12pm
> 
> Wynonna: Oh! Ask her if she likes licking whipped cream off jello!  
>  8:25pm
> 
> Wynonna: Hot cop says you’re fine. Wouldn’t tell me the rest of the story, which makes me think it’s funny...  
>  10:02pm
> 
> Wynonna: Sleep well, Baby Girl. Love you. Stay safe, okay?  
>  10:05pm
> 
> Waverly: Love you too, Wynonna. I’ll call tomorrow and tell you the story. Start working on rude cat allergy jokes now.  
>  11:24pm


	5. Tick

On Day 25 of 30, the internet went out.

When the internet was available, it was easy to find other pastimes. Books and puzzles and craft projects were in abundant supply. The moment the internet disappeared, suddenly only chores and the dregs of the To Do list seemed readily available.

"I have a massive list of half started projects and not a single one appeals to me." Nicole plopped down on the floor and propped her head up on one hand.

Waverly laughed openly. "You look like a disgruntled toddler."

Nicole grinned at this, mischievous. “Oh yeah? Then go pick a book and read me a story."

Something about reading out loud to Nicole struck Waverly as incredibly intimate. The suggestion, made lightly, with a glint in the eye, startled her. It also deeply appealed.

She chose a book from the shelf, one that she'd read many times and loved for its loping cadence. Waverly returned to the door, and found Nicole lying sprawled across the opposite doorway on her belly. Eyes shut and still grinning, "Read to me, Waverly Earp."

So Waverly read, helpless against that smile.

She let herself slip into the rhythm of the words, to save herself from being entirely bowled over by this moment. The quiet intimacy, the trust, the familiarity and comfort. The excited tightness in her gut, begging her to savor the moment, begging for more.

It was almost too much to bear.

After a while, Waverly noticed Nicole's breaths had deepened and slowed, lulled to sleep by the ebb and flow of the story, of her voice.

Waverly leaned back against the wall and took a shaky, deep breath. It rattled around inside her on the way down, and eased back out slowly.

No longer distracted by reading, her head started to churn, and the weight in the pit of her stomach grew harder to ignore. She let her eyes drift along Nicole’s sleeping form, an audible sigh slipping from her into the quiet landing.

She had spent the past four weeks telling herself how lovely this friendship was, how lucky she was to have stumbled upon this companion in such an otherwise isolated time. But sitting there, Nicole Haught sleeping mere feet from her, the truth was hard to deny. 

Waverly Earp had fallen. _Hard_. 

She groaned and thumped her forehead onto her knees. 

Five more days and quarantine would end. Five more days and the world would reach in to pluck them out of this cozy nook they’d built, just the two of them.

She had spent far too much time daydreaming lately. An hour could pass by in an instant, spent entirely on the thought of her hand slipping into Nicole’s hand, fingers entwining, thumb rubbing absentmindedly across warm skin. Good lord, she could lose a whole night imagining how those dimples would deepen as she brushed her lips across them.

She had imagined a lot more than that too. 

She was running out of time, and no amount of daydreaming, no matter how high-definition it might be, would slow it. She needed to make a freaking move, needed to set this in motion before the world intervened and got its busy hands on them. 

But a move is hard to make from a distance, when a misstep could end the friendship keeping her afloat in such an unnerving time. A move is hard to make with this precious start hanging tender in the balance. 

Nicole stirred and opened her eyes slowly. She cracked a sleepy smile, blinking up at Waverly. "You have a lovely voice. I could listen to you forever."

A little after midnight, at the start of Day 30, Waverly lay awake, staring up at the ceiling. Quarantine would end at 5:00pm. Seventeen hours, not even, and they would be free to leave. It should have been a relief, to reach the other end of these thirty days, intact.

But all she could think about was Nicole. Nicole who wasn’t hers, not yet. 

She had tried, over the past days, to shift the balance. To take this groundwork they’d laid and start building. But damn, the nerves got her every time, and she told herself, _wait another day, just in case. Just in case._

Just in case this wasn’t meant to be anything but temporary salvation in a lonely time.  
Just in case her heart was the only one bursting. 

A soft knock on the door, barely loud enough to reach her, interrupted her spiraling thoughts.

Like a shot, she was out of bed, tripping towards the door and pulling it open, heart in her throat. 

Nicole was standing in the middle of the landing, pajama-clad and, by all appearances, quite nervous.

“Hi. Sorry, were you asleep?”

Waverly shook her head, brain still skipping a bit too much to form words. The final night. _Time is running out_ , the broken record in her head repeated, over and over. _Do something!_ her heart shouted.

“I was just thinking,” Nicole started, hesitating. “Quarantine ends at five, but – “

Waverly cut her off, a bit louder than intended and certainly more breathless than she ought to have been. “Could we still have dinner tonight? At seven, like usual? I’ll cook.”

Nicole took a deep breath, shoulders visibly relaxing. “Yes,” she breathed. “Seven. I’ll bring dessert.” 

“It’s a date,” Waverly said, smile creeping across her lips. Then, suddenly aware of the daring leap she had just made, suddenly unsure, she paled and backpedaled wildly. “I mean, well, it’s –“

“It’s a date.” Nicole grinned.


	6. Interrupted

At 6:45pm, the knock found Waverly in her kitchen, humming over a steaming sheet pan of roasted chickpeas and broccoli. The radio played softly in the background to accompany her. She was buzzing, head to toe, nerves and excitement and hopes for the evening, hopes at which she couldn't look too closely, for fear of spontaneous daydream-induced combustion.

She had been lecturing herself all day. Don't rush. Savor the start, no matter how much you want to leap into the middle. Don't fling yourself into her arms and beg for forever as soon as she knocks on the door. Remember this is a first date, not a thirty-first date. But, her daydreams were too busy to listen to those lectures, as is often the way with lectures snd daydreams.

The knock brought her crashing down from her reverie, landing with a thump on a pile of violently fluttering butterflies. "It's open," she shouted, scrambling to shove the pan back in the oven. She wiped her hands and tried desperately to pull herself together as the knob turned.

Nicole peeked her head around the door as she opened it. "I'm early. I hope that's okay. I couldn't wait any longer."

One sentence from this woman, standing _in her apartment_ and Waverly's brain had already gone fuzzy. "Of course, come in! No traffic?" She blushed deeply, hearing her own nonsense.

Nicole chuckled, shrugging, "I was in the area." She stepped into the small apartment fully and shut the door behind her. Brandishing a plastic Tupperware container, she entered the kitchen. "Can I toss this in the fridge for dessert?"

Waverly was not listening. Nicole was within three feet of her now, and the proximity was overwhelming. 

They hadn't even touched yet, and already she was losing it.  
And now she was thinking again about touching Nicole.  
And now Nicole was staring at her, grinning, an eyebrow raised. 

"Hmm?" Waverly murmured absentmindedly, eyes a little glazed and brain fighting its way back to consciousness, up a slippery daydream slope.

"I'm going to put this in the fridge," Nicole said slowly, doing so, "and then maybe I can help you finish dinner prep? Or get started on some dishes?" She took another step towards Waverly, now only an arm's length away. 

Waverly looked around the kitchen, gaze unfocused, searching for words to pair with a task for Nicole, to give her a moment to get her bearings again. 

Nicole's fingers slipped lightly around her wrist. Waverly’s heart may have stopped entirely for a moment.

"But first," Nicole suggested, "since we've both been a bit starved for contact lately, maybe we could hug?" 

Waverly dragged her eyes up to Nicole's, finding them soft and glinting with gentle amusement, and managed a nod. She let Nicole tug her forwards into a tight hug. 

For a moment, she was frozen and entirely overwhelmed. But, tucked up against Nicole’s chest, Waverly quickly melted, letting her arms wrap around Nicole's waist with palms spread flat on her back to maximize contact. 

She was simultaneously completely off-kilter and, somehow, the steadiest she'd been in a month.

Nicole, chin resting on Waverly's head, whispered, "I imagined over and over how good it would to feel to touch you, and I totally underestimated." She drew a thumb softly across the bare skin at the nape of Waverly's neck. "Waverly Earp, in my arms."

Waverly shivered, in small part from the touch, and in much, much larger part from Nicole’s words, twin parallels to the thoughts that were spinning around her own head at that very moment. She squeezed a little extra, and pressed her forehead to Nicole's flannel-clad shoulder. 

They stayed like this, swaying ever so slightly to quiet music on the radio, until they were rudely interrupted by the beeping oven timer, startling them both and dragging them apart.

Moving around the kitchen, setting the table and gathering burrito toppings from the fridge, they found every excuse for contact. Fingers sliding along stomachs as they passed, palms resting lightly on hips with words spoken in low whispers along necks, hands grazing in shared reach.

By the time they sat down at the table, Waverly was on fire and Nicole was looking considerably less pulled together and in control than she had when she stepped through the door.

The energy crackling between them was amplified one hundred fold by the weeks of anticipation, weeks of no physical touch, only touch imagined.

They had eaten so many meals together already, but this one felt worlds different. 

"This smells delicious," Nicole said, resting her hand on Waverly's forearm. She held Waverly's gaze deeply and continued, "Thank you for cooking tonight, and for that very first night. I'm so glad and grateful we started this." 

"Oh," Waverly breathed. "Me too." Nicole shifted closer, and Waverly responded in kind. Her eyes dropped for a moment to Nicole's lips, which spread into a sweet smile.

Nicole ran her fingers through Waverly's hair, curling around her ear, then leaned in, ghosting her lips across the skin there. "Waverly Earp, can I kiss you?"

Waverly tilted her chin to Nicole, a _good god, finally_ slipping from her.

BBRRRRRRRRRRR BRRRRRRRRRRRRR

The emergency alert blared from the radio, interrupting them harshly, a moment before their lips could meet. Nicole groaned and Waverly dropped her head to the cool table with a sigh.

THIS IS A SPECIAL BROADCAST. BREAKING NEWS. IN THE PAST HOUR, TEN CASES OF THE PURPLE SLIME VIRUS HAVE BEEN REPORTED IN THE PURGATORY AREA, THE FIRST IN FOUR WEEKS. TOP SCIENTISTS ARE CALLING THIS THE START OF AN OUTBREAK. THE MAYOR HAS ORDERED A TOWN-WIDE LOCKDOWN FOR ALL CIVILIANS. EMERGENCY PERSONNEL AND LAW ENFORCEMENT ARE TO REPORT TO THE SHERIFF'S STATION IMMEDIATELY FOR ASSIGNMENT. 

The emergency tone resumed, followed by a repeat of the message. 

"Fuck." Nicole was already getting to her feet. "Waverly, I'm so sorry, I have to -"

"Go," Waverly finished, hastily rising as well. "Of course. Go, save the town." 

She opened the door for Nicole, who paused there, brow furrowed with regret and disappointment. "I'll let you know when I'm back. If it's not too late, we could still have dinner. Or tomorrow?"

Waverly smiled, soft and sad, trying and failing to reassure. "I'll be here. Go. And be safe, okay?"

Nicole nodded, resigned, and hurried across the landing. 

Waverly closed the door and leaned against the adjacent wall. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her pounding heart. 

_Fuck_.

With a sigh, she pushed away from the wall and headed to the table, to begin packing up the uneaten meal.

Behind her, the door clicked open. She turned, question already on her lips. But before it could be spoken, it was replaced by Nicole's lips. Soft and light and heaven.

Waverly's knees buckled but Nicole had wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her securely. Waverly leaned into the kiss, reaching up to trace dimples with her thumb, feeling them deepen. 

After a long moment, Waverly broke the kiss, grinning and breathing heavily. She cradled the back of Nicole's neck with her fingertips and rose up on tiptoes to press their foreheads together. "You need to go. We'll pick up where we left off when you get back."

Nicole hummed happily against her lips. "Okay. I will think about you tonight, as I mop up purple goo and quell the gelatinous masses."

"Flattered," Waverly laughed, pulling Nicole down for one last kiss before shoving her out the door.

Later, as she cleaned the kitchen and listened to the Purgatory Public Radio broadcast on the chaos downtown, she remembered Nicole's container in the fridge. Curious, she peeked and couldn’t help but laugh. 

Nicole had made a grape jello mold for dessert.


End file.
